


canvas

by allpowerfullou



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Drabble, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allpowerfullou/pseuds/allpowerfullou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>plotless rh paint drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	canvas

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be for rinharu week but it never got finished and i'm honestly just so sick of trying to make anything out of this fic that i figured i'd cut my losses and just throw it out to the sharks

Haru smeared his paintbrush across the canvas; a splash of blue and a sigh of red, mixing somewhere in the middle for a muggy purple that just didn't seem to fit the theme of the painting. Usually he would stop and stare at it, a growing hatred for it as he watched the fruit of his effort come to life before him, but in the dim twilight lighting, he thought it fit surprisingly well. 

The light shined through the window and the sheer curtain with no effort, just a few rays being blocked out and the rest landing across Rin’s sleeping body. He was peacefully sleeping, the day catching up with him and his exhaustion showing through the way his face was so scrunched up and body tense. Haru thought he was beautiful. The turquoise sheets were tangled around his legs and his torso was bare and exposed, the small breeze from the ceiling fan leaving a small cluster of goosebumps along his skin. 

Rin was indifferent to the way Haru’s hand shook as he brought the worn brush back to the damp canvas, his thick oil paints sitting heavy on the surface before dripping just a little. Haru liked the natural way the paints bubbled and blended with each other, like the natural way the sun and moon worked together to create high tide and low tide. It took the realness out of the painting, and replaced it with something that seemed so much more real. A mistake. A mark which couldn’t have been fixed. A human error. 

Just like he was a huge fuck up, as was his art, and so was his boyfriend. Although, it definitely seemed like Rin was the more put together of the two--at least outwardly he appeared that way. He was always the big, outgoing one, as compared to Haru’s soft silence and distant gazes. Not that it had anything to do with their personal lives, but he still liked his paintings of Rin to have more normalcy than he would usually prefer. 

The line of Rin’s body began to take shape--a long thick line that tapered off towards the end into a few remaining lines of blue from the few remaining hairs of his brush that he had forgot to trim down. He always took his art into his own hands, trimming his brushes and blending his colors to his own preferences until everything he had was completely irreplicable. 

And sometimes, he could convince Rin to sit down with him and help him paint, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders and helping him bring the brush across the surface. Their table was covered in paintings that Haru insisted the whole family do together; him, the cat, Haru, and even if they ever adopted a kid in the future, there was room for small handprints amongst their much larger ones.

Painting was what drove Haru, the force behind his body that urged him through everyday. It was his way to relax after a stressful day or to cope with things happening in his life. It was cathartic in a way that nothing else was, and he felt like it was beginning to consume him whole, eat him from the inside out.

Fuck, it probably was consuming, with the thick acrylic smell filling his lungs, to the speckles of paint that he could never seem to get off his skin. It was even on the sheets, a permanent marking of the only talent he’d actually been able to follow through with. And of course, it covered the walls, canvas after canvas of paintings that mostly consisted and reds, blues, and Rin. He was the truest form of art Haru could see, and it only seemed fitting that his world revolve around him.

Somewhere in the middle of the blurred lines on Haru’s canvas, Rin had stirred, pushing himself up on a wobbly arm and looking at Haru with a sleepy curiosity. He spoke softly, calmly, beckoning Haru into bed with him, and who was he to say no? 

The paints laid forgotten in their spot as he stripped out of his clothes and slid into the bed, curling up in Rin’s embrace for just a few hours.


End file.
